We were so fortunate to be able to share stories with Ian during his time with our group.  It seems appropriate to share his friend Jackie Houghton's words on this page.  

​Ian Burkinshaw 26.5.25 to 25.5.17 91 yrs. 364 days

One of five children, Ian grew up in central Victoria to a farming family. Ian enjoyed life. Piano lessons with Mrs Southcombe (his future wife Dulcie's mother) were torture especially when two year old Dulcie cried!

In the early 1950s Dulcie and Ian were married.  Three children followed, Roslyn, Heather & John. Ian took a farm manager's position at ‘Gilgai’ Nagambie.  From Nagambie they moved to Lima South and farmed.   From Lima South they moved to Benalla where Ian worked in a stock and station agency and then in real estate.

Upon retirement in 1987 Ian embraced the computer.  Joining U3A he was educated in investments.  Stocks and shares were the order of the day.  Ian convened the U3A cyclists’ group for many years and in 2016 shared stories of his life during Writing Workshop.

Ian was a life member of the Agriculture Society and contributed in many ways to the welfare of the community.  Hoisting the Flag on Australia Day, reciting the ANZAC oath, on various committees, Ian was ready to help.

Ian had an interesting life.  A child of the Depression, Ian at 8 years old flew with Kingsford Smith and in 1943 as a young man undertook a very large droving job with his father from Carisbrook near Castlemaine to the Angliss Meatworks at the Newmarket saleyards ‘probably one of the last big droving jobs into the metropolitan area’.   Ian was recruited into ‘dad's army’ (the Home Guard) during World War II. 
 
Ian’s ancestry is Yorkshire in England, but he was Aussie to the core.  Albert Facey's book A Fortunate Life is how Ian thought about his own life.

Farewell Ian, we are fortunate for having known you.

R.I.P.
 
Jackie Houghton

 

'Good Advice', "Bad Advice'.   There could be some bad advice, mixed with the good advice', and some good advice with the bad advice.  Hopefully we can differentiate.  

There are different types of advice, some loud and clear and repeated so many times you are more likely to remember it, some whispered hurriedly, perhaps to give a third party an answer. 

In my case, advice was often given by my Uncle Frank, my father's youngest brother (born 1904).   I did quite a few droving trips with Uncle Frank, from a few days to a couple of weeks. He was a continuous talker about horses, dogs, shearing sheep and the various stories his ancestors told.  

There is one story he told quite often.  I don't think it was his original - it came from further back. It was really only a short saying:- and this is what it was.  

"Coves what's had the experience, they know's yer see".  

There are probably a few meanings to this saying, including, "If you think he is fair dinkum, listen to what he has to say, you may probably learn something".  

And so it was.  This is how I learnt about life and living on the land in the 1920's and 1930's.

Ian Burkinshaw
12 July 2016

​At the end of 1941 I had left school and returned home to our farm “Cooraminta”, Moolort in central Victoria.  During 1942 I learned to shear sheep and became quite proficient, too.  This profession occupied most of my time for about 20 years, then in a lesser form till I retired in 1987.  This story is about a very large droving job my father and I undertook in November-December of 1943.  It was the beginning of a severe drought beginning in early November that the local stock agent, Charles Bucknall of Carisbrook, asked my father Raymond if he would be interested in droving sheep to Melbourne.  There were over 10,000 old sheep in the district and no rail wagons available due to the war effort.  After talking it over with me we said ‘yes’ and the next seven weeks were very busy and interesting.  It took about six days to get all our gear together – a couple of coils of cyclone wire, 150 yards of hessian sewn to a rope (hand done).  All this and much more was loaded on to an old Chev ute with trailer and eight dogs. 
 
You cannot handle 10,000 sheep in one mob on Victorian roads, let alone anywhere for that matter.  They would be too spread out – over at least three miles – and the last two-thirds would get nothing to eat or drink.  The mob was broken into smaller mobs of between 2200 and 3300.  The route went from Carisbrook to Newstead to Yandoit to Porcupine Ridge, which is on the North Eastern slopes of Mount Franklin.  It was a very steep pinch here and the ute had to go via Daylesford to get to the top.  From here we went on to Lauriston keeping to the south of Kyneton and crossed the Calder Highway at North Woodend.  North of the Macedon ranges we passed Hanging Rock, Newnham and finally arrived at the Lancefield-Bulla road just north of Monegeeta.  By this time we were 8-9 days on the road.  Bulla was our next destination.  On one occasion we had to fill in a couple of days near Greenvale before crossing over a little old narrow bridge at Broadmeadows.  It took more than an hour to get the 3300 sheep across.  From here it was all open country with over 3000 acres making up the Essendon Common.  Half way across the common there was an old farmhouse with large sheep yards.  A few sugar gum trees provided some shade.  Here, for the cost of five shillings, we camped the sheep, dogs and ourselves for the night.
 
It always took about three days to get the mob settled.  By then it was obvious that certain sheep were always in the lead and others were tailenders.  If the mob were turned around it only took half an hour for the leaders to be back in the lead and the poor old dollies in the rear generally finished up as dog tucker at the rate of two per night.  The remarkable thing is that we always delivered more than we started with, in one case 35!
 
Next morning it was across the common and over the Calder Highway again, travelling a mile to North Essendon where we delivered our sheep to a local drover by the name of Ralph Dixon.  This was our last and largest mob.  We helped Ralph finish the drove through a part of Moonee Ponds, along Ascot Vale Road, Racecourse Road, a short distance along Epsom road crossing the Geelong Road and into the Newmarket saleyards, delivering them to Angliss Meatworks.
 
My father Raymond walked behind the four mobs and all the sidetracking all the way to Melbourne.  We estimated he walked about 600 miles in the seven weeks.  Dad would set off with the sheep the first thing.  I remained to dismantle and load the yards.  When I caught up to him we’d have a bite to eat and a drink while still moving the mob.  I’d go on ahead to find a place to camp and hopefully water the sheep.  Later in the afternoon I would go on ahead again to find and set up camp for the night.  Sometimes it was an unused side road.  Occasionally we would have to get up during the night to let someone through. This is where we used the hessian across the road so the obstacle could be seen by motorists.  In those days car lights were quite dim because of the blackout restrictions.  By the end we had some very well educated dogs.  One of them became the farmyard matriarch for the next 10 to 12 years.  The average price paid for this large mob was three shillings five pence halfpenny (3/51/2).

 
Ian Burkinshaw
April 2016
 
*This story was the second prize winner in the Benalla Festival’s writing competition in 2015.
 

This story is a true family pioneering, ancestral fact concerning my Great Grandfather William Robert Brown.  Born near Margate in Kent in 1828, he was one of a family of eight, having seven sisters.

William Robert married an Anna Green in 1853.  Two months later he set off for Australia to better his situation leaving his new wife behind, not knowing he would not see her for another 10 years and the unborn child she was carrying, Willie.

Anna and Willie duly arrived in Australia in 1863. William Robert had secured a land grant, part of the station property "Norwood", near Maryborough, owned by Alfred Joyce who he had worked for for a number of years as a flour Miller when he first came to Australia.

Father and son never got on very well and Willie moved out as soon as possible.  By the late 1870's he had married a lady from White Hills near Bendigo and fairly soon was settled on land near Seymour.  By 1914 they had a large family including five sons.  One of these sons was married and had five small children.  

Now Willie's five sons all enlisted in World War I.  They all returned safely.  

While the son who was married with five small children was away all the children died from influenza.  What a tragedy.  

As he and his wife were still quite young and still wanting a family, they started again. They had five more children in the same gender order and they were named after the first five.  What a brave and heartfelt thing to do!

This story was confirmed to me by their descendants at an elderly relative's 90th birthday at Timor West in 1990.

Ian Burkinshaw,
March 2016